


Or Infinity

by nbarker1990



Category: The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 01:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11071044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbarker1990/pseuds/nbarker1990
Summary: Work is exhausting. So too is thinking about how much you're going to miss him when work's gone.





	Or Infinity

“There’s something to be said for divorces,” he jokes, nudging Adam with an elbow. “Don’t think I’ve been this thin since I turned twenty-five.” Gwen watches as the two men exchange a look when she doesn’t join in the banter, tries to pretend she doesn’t know what it means.

 

“Well, it’s that or, y’know, actually working out.”

 

“Exactly. Easy decision,” Blake says with a smirk. “Dunno why book publishers aren’t making a buck off it.”

 

Adam lightly punches his friend’s arm before giving his bicep a soft squeeze, and she’s struck again by how they physically seem even closer than usual. Gwen’s had her fair share of hugs from Blake since they first met, but she doesn’t mind admitting that she’s almost envious of how comfortable they are together right now on the couch opposite hers.

 

Having said that, she knows full well that if given the opportunity to be quite _that_ touchy-feely, she’d likely end up curled into a ball and drenching one of their shirts with tears. Not ideal.

 

Apollo’s cries interrupt her increasingly self-pitying train of thought, and she hurries into the trailer, dropping to her knees and picking her baby up before the nanny can get to him. Zelva’s amazing with the kids, but honestly, Gwen desperately needs a cuddle right now, and if that means she gets snot all over her dress, the show can deal. “Hey, baby,” she croons, smiling when Apollo reaches for her ear. “What’s the matter then? Want some time with mommy?” She nods at the nanny, and steps outside. All her boys have been cling-y and her youngest is definitely going through that phase right now. “Wanna say hello to everyone?”

 

Blake’s eyes, all soft and warm, are on her when she sits back down on the couch, and yeah, maybe something in her throat catches at the expression on his face when his gaze drops to Apollo in her arms.

 

“Can’t blame the little guy,” her colleague says, smiling gently as Apollo nuzzles even closer. He walks over and perches on the edge of the seat, and Gwen’s first instinct is to shift away. It’s not because she doesn’t like Blake (the opposite, if she’s honest with herself) but that there’s been this strange vulnerability around him lately, and she’s already way too close to letting her emotions overwhelm her. They’re probably going to be called back on set within the next ten minutes, after all.

 

When Adam leaves the room moments later, it’s almost like some strange tension breaks apart, and she lets herself make eye contact with the man next to her. She’s so physically _aware_ of him these days, and when he reaches a hand down to tickle Apollo and his fingers brush hers, she feels a jolt of something that’s almost frightening in its intensity.

 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, his voice almost a whisper. “You looked a bit, well, off earlier.” He tilts his head. “Not in a bad way, y’know. I didn’t mean, well, it’s just, you can talk to me, right? You know that.”

 

She puts a hand on his knee, squeezes. “Yeah, I’m doin’ okay. Just was thinking a bit.”

 

“I’ve been advised never to do that,” Blake jokes, his hand coming down on hers, his fingers thick and long and it takes a deliberate effort to avoid wondering if –

 

“You’re so dumb, Blake,” she blurts out (because she’s literally only told her family and a few close friends that her marriage is finally over, and she knows this tiny kernel of want is fucked up). “You know you’re smart, right? Like sometimes you say stuff, and it’s like wow, amazing.” His laugh is _too_ loud, and Gwen frowns. “I mean it.”

 

Apollo chooses that moment, fraught with an awkward silence from the cowboy, to interrupt, grabbing for Blake with his still chubby arms.

 

“Christ!” she exclaims, one of her son’s little sneakers kicking out at her breasts as he struggles out of her grip. “Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” she mutters under her breath.

 

Blake reaches down, manages to wrangle Apollo from her up into his own lap. “Gotta be nice to your mama,” he chides gently, pulling down her son’s shirt where it had ridden up and exposed his belly.

 

“Play trucks!” the toddler exclaims, and she and Blake both laugh, and yeah, it feels damned good to be sharing a moment which isn’t filled with stories of betrayal and lies and cheating exes. It gives her a little hope that maybe their bond isn’t just comprised of their weird parallel situations and the misery they’ve been sharing in. It had taken time to open up to Blake, but they’re now on the last day before a break from filming, and she’s pretty sure the only person who knows more about how things went down with Gavin is her own mom, and maybe Jen.

 

“Does he have some trucks to play with, or?”

 

“Yeah,” she confirms, pointing to her trailer. “You don’t mind? We need to get back out there soon, and I don’t want to waste your time, or - ”

 

“Not wasting anything. He know where they are, or do I need directions?”

 

Smiling, she gives Apollo a kiss on his arm. “He knows. Just make sure he doesn’t eat them, okay?”

 

Blake shoots her a worried look, raises his eyebrows. “He won’t, will he? I’m not exactly the most responsible babysitter, and - ”

 

“I trust you.”

 

And, funnily enough, she does. Sometimes when all the coaches have done interviews in the past, everyone’s joked around about how they’d never trust Blake around their kids, but she needs him to know that in _real_ life, there aren’t many people she’d trust more.

 

She watches as the cowboy carries her youngest into the trailer, leaving the door open behind him, and considers going to observe before deciding to just stay put instead. Blake’s always struck her as someone who should be a father, who loves to hang with children, and if she can give him a little glimpse of that life, she’d consider it a privilege.

 

She wakes up to Blake’s fingers stroking her cheek, to Apollo almost poking her in the eye. “Wakey, wakey, mommy,” the musician says, and she doesn’t hold back the smile she’s feeling all over at the sight that greets her. And if she also gives herself a few seconds to imagine what it would be like to _actually_ wake up to his warm blue eyes every morning, nobody knows that but her.

 

“Hey,” she says, croaking the word out like she’s been asleep for ten hours instead of what she assumes was only a few minutes. “You boys behave yourselves?”

 

“I always do,” Blake acknowledges with a wink, carefully lowering Apollo down so he can drop a wet smacking kiss on her cheek. Zelva’s just behind them, she finally notices, and she shoots her nanny a look of gratitude.

 

“S’pose we should get back out there.” Checking her watch, she notices it’s already nearly two o’clock. “Zelva, you’re alright to take him home and pick the boys up?”

 

Five minutes later, the usually busy meeting area is empty save for her and the tall singer who’s still standing right next to her. He takes her hand in his own, and she’s almost forced to swallow down the emotion that catches in her throat. “Let’s go get ‘em, girl.”

 

* * *

 

 Her trailer is something of a second home when they’re filming The Voice, and she sits facing the mirror, carefully removing her make-up. She’ll put some more on before she goes home, of course, but only the basics. Kingston and Zuma have already Facetimed her to let her know that they’ve had dinner and are doing their homework, and she’s grateful for how quickly they’ve gotten used to their new routine. She’s not, of course, still wants to cry every single time one of the nannies drives them over to Gavin’s new house. She doesn’t miss _him_ , but she misses her family like she’d miss a limb. Or worse.

 

The knock on the door isn’t unwelcome, and she apparently Blake takes her muttering (it’s hard to talk when you’re trying to reapply lipstick) as a welcome. Which it is, so…

 

“Ready to head home?” he asks, one of his large hands coming to rest on her shoulder.

 

“Gonna give me a massage first?” Gwen replies, shooting him a quick but tired grin. It’s been a good day but she’s so freaking exhausted that she should probably be more careful with her words. She’d never had to be with him before, but some of her thoughts lately have been… Well, she needs to be careful, that’s all.

 

“You want one?”

 

“My heart says yes…”

 

“Well, that’s your answer then,” Blake says, his other hand lightly rubbing up and down her upper back, his fingers occasionally making their way to her hair. “Any time, y’know.”

 

It’s quiet outside her trailer, and she wonders if there are any crew still outside, listening in. Paranoid, she’s freaking paranoid these days. Shaking her head, she meets Blake’s eyes in the mirror. “Did I tell ya I’m taking the boys to a ranch? In Montana? Zuma’s literally already wearing his new boots every day to prepare.” Her eyes flit shut momentarily as he starts massaging her shoulders. God, he’s good.

 

“One day we’ll get you in some too, hey?”

 

“Not in this lifetime, cowboy,” she says, lying through her teeth because, honestly, she’d found herself looking through the window of some country store the other day (they’d been deer heads on almost every empty bit of wall and it had been disconcerting to say the least) and contemplating going in and picking up some boots for her, as well as her two other sons.

 

“Never say never.”

 

“What, like I’d _never_ kiss you, that kind of thing?” she teases with a grin, only realizing how she’s _actually_ said it out loud when his fingers still and he stares at her intently. “Can we forget I said that?” Gwen asks with a wince. “Pretty please.”

 

He coughs, re-starts the massage. “I can try. Seems pretty unlikely though, given - ”

 

“It’s like I don’t have a filter anymore sometimes.” It’s an admission and not a pretty one. She’s been learning how to be single again, and honestly, most days she’s still not sure whether the good things outweigh the bad. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Gwen, sweetheart, you literally have no reason to apologize. I mean, giving me fodder for my dreams until we get to hang out again? Not exactly a bad thing.” His face is composed but the words shake her, because if he’s thinking like she is, if there’s maybe a chance that… “You want me to stop?” he asks, concerned.

 

“No.” Vehement.

 

“So. Montana. Not Oklahoma? I feel slighted, y’know.”

 

“Poor baby,” she says, applying the last of her mascara, and starting to put her crap back in their bags. "I don’t know how you’ll cope.”

 

“Make it up to me.” It’s not a question, and even though he’s still smiling (god, those dimples…), she wonders if maybe she has the guts to do just that. Her way.

 

He looks surprised when she stands up and turns to face him, and yeah, her heart is literally beating so fast right now, but she doesn’t think she can leave things hanging for the next few weeks. The not _knowing_ is gonna kill her.

 

“Gwen?”

 

She’s had a few first kisses in her time, some better than others. This, though… He’s tentative at first, almost recoiling when her lips first meet his. The second she shifts closer, though, lets her body mould itself to his as she deepens the kiss, she can literally feel him give in, give up. And then it’s heaven.

 

His lips are actually softer than she’d thought they’d be, his tongue even more eager, and yes, she can totally acknowledge to herself that this is something she’s been thinking about for almost a week now. “Blake,” she groans, her hand trying to gain purchase on the back of his shirt. He’s so damned tall that she actually has to stand on her tip toes to reach his mouth properly, but it’s so so so worth it.

 

When his fingers find her skin, gently resting at her waist under her shirt, she finds herself with a knot of need in her belly, a deep desire to just get as close to him as possible. There’s a frustrating litany of ‘too soon’ running through her head, though, and so after a few minutes of frantic kisses, greedy touches and heavy breathing, she draws back from him, placing her hands flat on his broad chest and avoiding his gaze as she tries to slow down her beating heart.

 

“I - ” She struggles with what to say, whether to apologize or explain or simply ask for more. He solves the problem for her, taking her back into his arms and just burying his head in the crook of her neck. It’s almost a submissive move, one which leaves her cradling him and patting him on the back like he’s one of her children after a bad dream. “Hey, it’s alright.”

 

He sniffles a little, clears his throat, and she suddenly desperately needs to see his face, needs to know what he’s thinking. “You’re so gorgeous,” are the first words she can make out, mumbled into the collar of her shirt. “So, so gorgeous.”

 

It’s hard not to let herself hope when she hears the solemn worshipful intensity of those words, and god, her timing is always the worst. She knows all too full how he’s been coping with his divorce, and it’s not that far from her own experience. Yes, there’s a sense of freedom, or a weight lifted from their shoulders (because they finally KNOW and it’s not just a sense of dread and suspicion), but there’s also still a deep mourning and loss, and she doubts a few nice kisses (even with Blake) can just magically make that go away.

 

There aren’t any rules for how to move on, the how and the who and the when, she knows that, but she’s pretty sure _nobody_ would seriously advice someone to start up a new relationship within weeks of filing divorce papers. And it’s not that she’s thinking of even being in a _relationship_ with Blake, not really, but there’s this weird energy around them now, a gravitational pull, and she’s not sure whether she can resist it, or even if she wants to.

 

“Blake.” She can herself speaking, hear the breathiness and the desire still there. For a moment, she considers simply kissing him again, of just making out until her conscience tells her to stop. But she has three little boys waiting at home, and she needs space to think.

 

He sighs deeply, lifts his head from her shoulder and looks right at her. His eyes are even bluer than usual, and she’s pretty sure they’re a little teary. Gwen doesn’t ask, just takes his hand in hers, twining their fingers as best she can. She’s not going to see him for the next few weeks and that’s too long, it’s just too long.

 

“Text me, okay?”

 

“I’ll miss you.” He leans down, and gives her a lingering kiss on the cheek, and yeah, there’s probably a mark there now from the lipstick she’d left on him. “Send me photos of the cowgirl boots you buy yourself.” It’s said jokingly, but honestly, she’s gonna do just that. And if he’s not sick of her by the time she gets back to Los Angeles, if her brain keeps fizzling whenever she’s around him, maybe, well, maybe she’ll steal another kiss or two…

 

Or infinity.


End file.
